


Zero Mile

by buttstrife



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Romance, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 01:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14415141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttstrife/pseuds/buttstrife
Summary: Five times it’s confident gay vs panicked gay, and one time they both get their act together.





	Zero Mile

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this moment](https://youtu.be/ZEMWWuKxKHs?t=579)

_five_

 

Doyoung would never admit to loving Taeyong’s body the way he does, but then how else would he explain recognising Taeyong from just a butt grab?

“I touched his stomach and knew he was flexing his abs,” Doyoung says, lying through his teeth. Not that he hasn’t studied in embarrassing detail the ridges of Taeyong’s abs, the softness of his waist, the cute little mole that rests above the waistband of his boxers. Not that he hasn’t memorised the sensation of Taeyong’s skin against his. Not that he isn’t well acquainted with the feeling of holding Taeyong. “He has lean abs and that’s what I was touching.”

He knows the other members don’t buy his excuses, but Doyoung has never cared enough to explain his actions or his words to others. He knows Taeyong well – possibly too well. Taeyong is his best friend, after all.

But best friends aren’t meant to feel this way about each other, right?

 

 

 

After the recording has finished and NCT 127 are waiting to thank the producer of the show, Doyoung has a hand casually resting on Taeyong’s waist, pulling him in. “I knew it was you because you have such a flat ass,” Doyoung says, laughing in mirth when Taeyong rolls his eyes.

“It’s not _that_ flat,” Taeyong argues without much vehemence. “But seriously, that butt grab of yours was intense.”

Doyoung shrugs his shoulders, figuring Taeyong has no problem with him getting hands-on. They both know Taeyong likes to grab other members’ asses: Yoonoh, Mark, Johnny, the list goes on. Comparatively, Taeyong lacks only in the butt department. But Doyoung doesn’t mind.

“It’s not a bad thing, hyung,” Doyoung says, his hand slipping dangerously low, fingers brushing against the denim of Taeyong’s jeans. Smiling teasingly, Doyoung grabs a handful of Taeyong’s ass, drawing circles with his thumb on Taeyong’s hips. He comments, “Hmm, three out of ten, could be improved.”

Taeyong huffs, returning the gesture of admiration with a flustered glare. He leans in to whisper into Doyoung’s ear, breath hot against the shell of his ear, but then they notice the producer stepping from his room to greet them. As the leader, Taeyong straightens up first, all previous amusement draining from his body as he becomes the epitome of a professional idol.

Doyoung retracts his hand, his smile unstoppable on his lips, mainly from his pride at seeing Taeyong like this (but also because Taeyong’s ass is grass and Doyoung is going to mow it).

 

*

 

_four_

 

At their dorm, Doyoung manages to skip ahead of the herd and get to the bathroom first for a much needed shower. He has never been too keen with the idea of sharing showers to save time, unlike Johnny and Ten who seem to have upgraded their bros for life status to homos for life.

While in the middle of lathering his body with soap, he sees the door open through the glass screens of the shower stall. Freezing for a second, Doyoung has a mini heart attack when he realises it is Taeyong. Anyone else and Doyoung might have yelled at them to wait outside for their shower.

Their eyes meet, and Doyoung tries his best to seem like he doesn’t care. They have seen each other naked before. They know how this goes: borderline homoerotic, because it has always been hard for Doyoung not to stare and admire when it comes to Taeyong.

Taeyong pulls off his shirt with grace, throws his jeans into the laundry basket and strips bare within seconds. He doesn’t waste time, joining Doyoung in the shower without hesitation. “Hope you don’t mind,” Taeyong says upon sliding open the glass door, sounding not the least bit apologetic. Not that Doyoung could possibly refuse; not that Taeyong has any intention of being rejected.

The shower stall is big enough for the two of them, but they are both fully grown men so it comes as no surprise that it feels a touch cramped when Doyoung tries his utmost to make room for Taeyong so that they aren’t touching. Because touching would be gaaay, and even though Ten insists Doyoung is a confident gay, Doyoung doesn’t want to impinge on Taeyong’s personal space during such an intimate daily ritual. Also because Taeyong tends to react like a defensive kitten whenever Doyoung comes on too strong.

“Doyoungie, let me help you with your back,” Taeyong says, aegyo hard to resist, and Doyoung’s plans on remaining a stoic pining figure jump out the window. Whoever said that Taeyong hates doing aegyo is a liar – Taeyong loves getting what he wants.

“It’s fine,” Doyoung mumbles, quieting when Taeyong’s hands are on his back, soft with his ministrations. Taeyong starts kneading at Doyoung’s shoulders, massaging down the expanse of his back with touches that have him flushing red. Doyoung blames the heat of the water. Not realising he has been holding his breath until he lets out a contented sigh, Doyoung realises now that there isn’t that much harm in indulging in his fantasies – or just, indulging in Taeyong’s presence.

Turning around, Doyoung shifts forward, unintentionally taking in the sight of Taeyong’s naked body. “You’re taking up all the water,” Doyoung insists, hoping Taeyong doesn’t notice the way his eyes linger in certain areas. Backing him up against the glass, Doyoung glances at Taeyong’s half-hard dick and then meets Taeyong’s expectant – or is it hoping? – gaze. They don’t have to speak to converse: Doyoung can see it in the way Taeyong’s lips quirk from a pout into a smirk, how he drags his teeth across his bottom lip, watching and anticipating Doyoung’s next movements.

“Turn around,” Doyoung instructs, hand already on Taeyong’s hip, brushing the curve of his ass. “It’s less weird if I don’t have to see your face.”

Taeyong’s eyes betray nothing. He turns around without a word, resting his arm against the glass, guiding Doyoung’s hand to his inner thighs, and parting his legs as though he wants Doyoung to bury his dick there. Maybe Taeyong does want that, but Doyoung swallows his ambitions and settles for giving Taeyong a quick handjob.

Taeyong’s inner thighs are soft, delicate, different to the lean muscle everywhere else on his body. Doyoung trails his fingers over the skin, sliding his palm through Taeyong’s pubic hair and grabbing the shaft of Taeyong’s erection. Willing himself to remain silent, Doyoung focuses his eyes on Taeyong’s nape as he strokes Taeyong to full hardness. Taeyong’s attempts to find some purchase on the glass leaves Doyoung steadying him with a hand at his hip. He can hear the stutters in Taeyong’s breathing, can feel the warmth blossoming from Taeyong’s body.

“I’ll get you off hyung, don’t worry,” Doyoung says, whispering against the shell of Taeyong’s ear, afraid that Taeyong might change his mind any moment now. That Doyoung’s own erection pressing in between Taeyong’s ass cheeks might scare him off. As much as Doyoung wants to rut into Taeyong, have him fucked and filled, he also wants to memorise the desperate sounds Taeyong makes when he nears his climax, to remember the plushness of Taeyong’s ass, to know how Taeyong loses control. There is so much Doyoung wants from Taeyong that it frightens him – Taeyong already gives so much of himself to NCT, to the world, what little he has left to offer Doyoung doesn’t believe he deserves.

After Taeyong comes, the evidence of which already being washed out by the showerhead, Doyoung turns around and hurries to finish his shower, resolute in ignoring any feeling of regret. Taeyong’s quiet moan rings in his ears, a melody he is afraid to hear again for how it might ruin him further.

“Do you want me to… help you too?” Taeyong asks, his fingers brushing Doyoung’s arms, wary and cautious.

Doyoung shakes his head. “I can use my own hand unlike some people,” he says, too tired to put any bite into his words. “Just wash up quickly, hyung, so that the others can shower too.”

With that, Taeyong completes his shower without saying another word to Doyoung, and Doyoung is thankful that Taeyong isn’t trying to rock the boat. Watching from afar is common ground, even giving Taeyong a handjob is something familiar, but _mutually_ touching each other for pleasure – as utilitarian as the approach – is out of Doyoung’s expertise.

Once Taeyong has stepped out of the shower, Doyoung changes the water temperature to as cold as it will go, miserably dealing with the consequences of wanting someone he shouldn’t.

 

*

 

_three_

 

Another week passes without Doyoung feeling the need to seek Taeyong out for skin-ship. Indeed, Taeyong is the one who comes to him in the early A.M. to ask, “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Why?” Doyoung whispers, head peeking out the door. He is naked from the waist down and it is cold outside his room. Donghyuk is already asleep and Doyoung doesn’t want to accidentally wake him and have him see his strange relationship with Taeyong.

“Can’t sleep well. I need to hold something warm,” Taeyong replies.

“Then go microwave something—” Doyoung stops, sighing when he sees Taeyong’s bottom lip jut out in an undeniably cute pout. Opening the door wider for Taeyong to enter, he realises too late that Taeyong is naked except for his puppy-print boxers. Taeyong must be cold – his nipples are pert, and Doyoung’s stare naturally flows down to Taeyong’s narrow waist, his tapered body line and slim legs that makes him that much more handsome. Even though Taeyong doesn’t have much in the way of a happy trail, Doyoung’s imagination supplies enough regardless, and his attention never fails to dip to below the waistband. Shaking his head, Doyoung shuts the door quietly, sleepiness having derided most of his inhibitions. Glancing at Taeyong, Doyoung hopes he hasn’t noticed where his gaze has been for the past minute, but Taeyong simply twines his pinkie with Doyoung’s, pulling him towards the bed.

Acquiescing, Doyoung climbs in after Taeyong, pulling the covers up and facing away from him. Within seconds, Taeyong has an arm around Doyoung, spooning him from behind. Taeyong buries his face in the junction of Doyoung’s neck and shoulder. Doyoung can feel the heat Taeyong emanates, every brush of skin against skin making his balls tighten until he is aching hard. Swearing under his breath, Doyoung takes a deep breath through his nostrils and stares resolutely into the darkness.

Doyoung can tell Taeyong is already asleep based on the soft breathing against his neck. He can hear the static-like mumbles that escape Taeyong’s mouth at the most random of times, senseless words that keep Doyoung from properly drifting off to sleep. Then Doyoung hears Taeyong murmur, “Doyoung-ah…”

“What?” Doyoung replies back in a hurried whisper, before realising Taeyong is sleep-talking and sighs. If he wasn’t so tired, he would be rolling his eyes too and teasing the fuck out of Taeyong until Taeyong had his usual panicked epiphany.

The feeling is mutual.

Not that Doyoung plans on acting on that.

 

*

 

_two_

 

When Taeyong is cooking one night while the other members are doing a V App Live, Doyoung slings an arm around Taeyong’s waist. “Hey, hyung,” he says, mouth watering at the aroma of the cooking.

Taeyong is a skilled chef from the many years he has had to cook for his numerous dongsaengs. Like with so many responsibilities as a leader, Taeyong takes upon its burdens without open reluctance or hesitation, only to be halted by self-doubt. Sometimes when Taeyong doesn’t seem to have the energy to speak or react like an ideal idol should during a broadcast, Doyoung takes upon his mantle of hyperbolic scapegoat without a second thought, if only to lessen Taeyong’s onus.

“Can you try some of this?” Taeyong says, and Doyoung nods.

From behind them, he can hear Yukhei whining that he is starving. How long has Yukhei been complaining? Oh wait, Doyoung doesn’t care, not with Taeyong right next to him.

Taeyong glances at Doyoung, a smile at his lips as he scoops up some of the beef stir-fry with his spatula. “Let me know if it’s too salty,” Taeyong says as he brings the food to Doyoung’s mouth, careful not to drop any on their stage clothes.

Chewing on the food, Doyoung gives a thumbs-up, swallowing as Taeyong turns the stove off, leaving the spatula in the fry-pan and wiping his hands on his apron.

“You have some sauce…” Taeyong murmurs, hand reaching out and thumb already at the corner of Doyoung’s lips to swipe it away, lingering afterwards.

In reaction, Doyoung swipes his tongue out, accidentally brushing Taeyong’s thumb and wetting his skin. “Oops,” Doyoung says unnecessarily as Taeyong retracts his hand, holding it awkwardly by the wrist as though he has been stung by something venomous.

Maybe Doyoung’s gaze lingers too long at Taeyong’s lips, but in the next second, Taeyong’s demeanour shifts and he brings his hand to his mouth, flicking his tongue out to taste the sauce on his thumb. They have shared a million and one foods and drinks, swapped saliva every day all without actually kissing, yet somehow Doyoung finds himself blushing at Taeyong’s action. Since when did Taeyong become this forthright?

“Hmm… it’s salty but not bad,” Taeyong says, and Doyoung’s has already trailed off, wondering about other salty sticky liquids that he would love to see Taeyong licking up. Thinking about how he wants Taeyong on his knees, dick fucking into Taeyong’s mouth, hands pulling at Taeyong’s hair, and making Taeyong choke around his cock in a way that is purely non-platonic.

Doyoung looks away.

Yeah, he has it bad.

 

*

 

_one_

 

“Go away,” Taeyong says, anger and fear audible in the way his voice wavers. Tension and anxiety from their non-stop practice for their NCT 2018 comeback has everyone on edge, worried that they might fuck up on stage and let down the whole team. One failure equates to seventeen other failures is the common misconception while they are undergoing dance and vocal practice. Taeyong takes the brunt of it, even though Doyoung believes he has the choreography down pat and his rapping is getting better every day.

Doyoung himself has trouble mastering the choreography to the same fluidity as the better dancers in the group, but at the same time, he rarely blames himself for not trying hard enough. Because every one of them tries their best, even in the worst of circumstances.

“No.” Doyoung sits down against the wall, opposite Taeyong. Their knees bump together.

Taeyong had taken their teachers’ criticisms today to heart, seeing it as a failure of himself, and then when practice had ended, he had left to hide in a vocal practice cubicle. During their trainee days, they had found the soundproof walls and lack of glass screens and mirrors helped maintain their professional reputation whenever they wanted to scream or cry about anything.

Doyoung doesn’t ask what is wrong. He knows. He knows and doesn’t want Taeyong to blame himself for another problem that isn’t his. Years of friendship, years of attuning himself to Taeyong, years of being by his side has his heart aching on Taeyong’s behalf.

“I won’t cry with you here,” Taeyong says, frustrated at himself – Doyoung can tell by how his voice goes up a pitch.

“It’s okay to cry. I won’t tell anyone,” Doyoung says, teasing. He reaches his hand out for Taeyong’s, bringing their palms together, fingers twining, and Taeyong lets him. “You’re stronger than you think you are, but it’s okay to cry nonetheless.”

Taeyong brings his head to his knees, and Doyoung manoeuvres around to be beside him.

“You can tell me what’s on your mind or you can tell me nothing at all,” Doyoung says, wrapping his free arm around Taeyong’s shoulders. “Either way, I’m going to stay here and be here for you, and you can’t stop me.”

If Taeyong is flustered, he doesn’t show it. He keeps his head low and bowed, silent as a statue. Doyoung stays with him as promised, saying nothing, doing nothing except keeping him company.

In the end, when Taeyong has partly forgiven himself, he lifts his head, turns to Doyoung and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek as a form of thanks.

No words needed – Doyoung is already dead in a ditch.

 

*

 

_zero_

 

Eventually, something has got to give, and this time, it is Doyoung. While Taeyong leaves mixed signals like footprints in the sand, Doyoung figures if he wants something to change, he should get his shit together and do something about it instead of constantly thinking about it. And anyway, there is no way in hell Taeyong would ever make the first move.

It is too late for any impromptu V Live sessions, meaning no members would come knocking at their door at a time like this (unless Donghyuk wants to be a little shit like the last time they were overseas). Since they are rooming together at a hotel for their Japanese NCT 127 promotions, Doyoung waits for Taeyong to finish washing up and come out of the bathroom before he says, “Can we talk, hyung?”

Taeyong makes a small non-committal noise, naked except for a towel hanging around his waist as he runs a hand through his damp hair.

Doyoung responds with a ghastly shriek that thankfully remains caught in his throat. “Sorry, just clearing my throat,” Doyoung says, trying to maintain his cool. Not that Taeyong’s body isn’t the eighth wonder of the world; not that this scene, with Taeyong in front of him like this, doesn’t make Doyoung think of how it suits the cliché plot of a pornographic film. “This is going to sound weird but—”

“Everything you say is already weird,” Taeyong comments, shrugging as he flops onto his bed and then reclines on his elbow to look at him.

“—I was thinking…” Doyoung bites his lip. “I like making you feel good. Sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing I can do for you… and since you seem to get pretty into it, I was thinking I don’t mind if it’s a regular thing… y’know?”

Taeyong blinks blankly for a few seconds before he taps his chin in thought. “What do you mean – you want to make me feel good?”

“Like naughty things…”

“We’re both adults here, Doyoung. You don’t have to be euphemistic,” Taeyong replies.

“I don’t want to scare you off,” Doyoung says diplomatically. “It’s whatever you want, goes. I’ll do it.”

Taeyong shakes his head. “You don’t get it, Doyoung.”

Doyoung’s heart drops, knowing he has overstepped an unsaid boundary. “S-sorry,” he stutters in his haste, in his embarrassment, in his disappointment.

“I’ve been dropping hints since forever,” Taeyong continues, making Doyoung look up from his lap. “I could probably sit my ass on your face and you’d still be wondering if I like you in that way. This thing between us – it goes both ways, okay? If you want to make me feel good, I also want to make you feel good. It’s only fair.”

Doyoung flushes red, wondering if SM Entertainment has finally whipped him hard enough and broken him for him to be hallucinating. “W-what?”

“I like you, you dumbass!” Taeyong half-whispers, half-screams in frustration. He rolls his eyes, and then strips himself of his towel to be on display. Throwing his towel at the foot of his bed, Taeyong says, “Come kiss me, you stupid—”

Doyoung cuts Taeyong off, rushing to his side and meeting him halfway for a kiss. It is their first, but it doesn’t feel like a first. It feels too familiar to be a first, too close and assured to make him unwittingly anxious – somehow, Taeyong’s lips against his, Taeyong’s cheeks against the palm of his hands, Taeyong exposing himself both figuratively and literally is what has Doyoung’s heart racing, feeling like the waiting and painful pining and every-single-fucking-thing has been worth it for this moment.

When they break apart, Doyoung curls his hand around Taeyong’s hip in a way that is ultimately too possessive but something he couldn’t have done before. “I like you too,” Doyoung says, smiling widely. “I like you too much.”

Taeyong pulls Doyoung into an embrace, foreheads touching. Looking into Doyoung’s eyes, “I stripped my clothes off even though you’re still in your PJs – you _better_ like me too much. You know how embarrassed I would’ve been if—”

Doyoung shuts him up with a kiss, chaste, and then unable to resist, presses another kiss to Taeyong’s lips – this one deeper, licking into Taeyong’s mouth and sucking on his tongue; the next few kisses filthy and wet and enough to have Taeyong gasping into Doyoung’s mouth, before Doyoung bursts into laughter mid-kiss and pulls away.

Taeyong gives him a weird look, seeming offended.

“Sorry, I’m just happy.” Doyoung says, thumbing Taeyong’s pretty lips, reddened from their make-out. “I’m happy, that’s all. I can’t believe I didn’t realise earlier that you were trying to put moves on me. I can’t believe we wasted so much time just dancing around each other.”

Taeyong slides his hand up Doyoung’s shirt, absent-mindedly, as he says, “That’s because we’re dumb and dumber. Or dumber and dumber. Just infinite dumbness. At least you said something – I was worried I was going to keep panicking every time you looked in my direction.”

“Yeah, says the guy who asked me for a handjob,” Doyoung says, brushing Taeyong’s hair out of his eyes and meeting his gaze with all the affectionate confidence of a requited love. “In the end, it will always be you, Lee Taeyong.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> decided not to write smut into the last scene bc i didn't feel like it suited the pacing/flow of the story so let's just call it figurative ass-eating (✿◕‿◕) (i love dotae and i will eventually get to writing literal ass-eating)
> 
> ([twitter](https://twitter.com/buttstrife) \- my ko-fi is linked on my twt; please consider supporting me through ko-fi if you can! comments/kudos/bookmarks are always highly appreciated! thank you♥)


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